Never Forgive, Never Forget
by August08
Summary: Within the snow covered mountains of Frostfire Ridge, two blood elves with completely separate lives find their destines entwined when a renegade Worgen attacks. Now, they must overcome the boundaries of their trust to fight back against the warlock who wants nothing more than to see both of them dead. However, one blood elf's hatred for the Worgen just might be their undoing.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : This is my first Warcraft story and I'm a bit nervous. I know there's a ton of lore that goes along with the game and I've done so much research my brain is about to explode. However, this story is set within the Warlords of Draenor expansion and doesn't necessarily follow any set storyline within the game. So, I hope you enjoy the story. Feedback is welcome (constructive, please. No flames; they're never appreciated).

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own Warcraft or any of the expansions. Neither do I own the characters Sairexanaris, Traylon, Zorrion or Yazzoo. They are toons my friend in RL play and has been so wonderful to let me borrow. I also don't own the guild Velvet Nightmare. I am only a member of the guild and my friend (who let me borrow their characters) is the guild master and has been kind enough to let me use the guild for the story. I only own Nyxidora, Chayl, Silvarin, Ravandraya, Trisen and Aexhal. They are my in-game toons and some of them will appear later on in the story.

* * *

 _Heat washed over his skin like a hot breeze. Flames danced through closed eyelids. The sound of the blazing fire roared in his ears as the young blood elf lay deathly still on the hard ground. Pain tore through his right eye, bringing him to tears; however he never whimpered, never made a sound. Through the roar of the flames, he could still hear the low growls of the attacker. He cracked his left eye open just enough to see the sight before him. His mother and father lay a few feet away; their bodies tattered and bloody._

 _Two figures stood over them. One, the looming figure of a Voidlord, the other a haunting image of a female Worgen. The boy closed his eye again as the warlock threw her head back and howled into the night; sending a chill of fear shooting down the boy's spine. Clawed feet scuffed across the gravel. The young blood elf held his breath as he felt a wet nose prod his neck; his stomach lurching at the smell of rotten meat on the Worgen's hot breath. She pulled back, satisfied that she had completed her task._

 _"Death to the blood elf scum," the warlock growled._

It was the barking of his fel wolf that brought Sairexanaris back to reality. The hunter looked up to see Felfang sniffing the ground, his ears low against his head. Sairexanaris glanced back down at the body of a young orcish boy, his body ravaged. He had seen countless bodies with similar wounds during his years training with the trolls as a hunter. And every time he asked himself the same question: Was it her? The one who robbed him of his sight in his right eye and took his parents, brother and sister from him all those years ago in Fairbreeze? A simple eye patch was nothing compared to the scars he bore deep within. He vowed to get revenge for his family's murders. He would not rest until the Worgen warlock lay lifeless at his feet.

It was the main reason why he became a hunter. To learn the skills necessary for tracking down prey. He had hunted the warlock across Azeroth, momentarily losing the trail at the Dark Portal. He had battled his way through hordes of Iron Orcs that swarmed through the Dark Portal to reach the other side into the land of Draenor, where his search began anew. Of course there was always the threat of attacks by Iron Orcs, and a base of operations needed to be made. With the help of the Frostwolf clan, it was no time before a garrison was constructed.

Sairexanaris spent several months building up his garrison's defenses, recruiting new followers and aids to help with the day to day skirmishes that popped up around Draenor. It also gave him time to explore the land, getting a feel for the wilds of a new world. And it was here, in a small village in Nagrand that he finally picked up the warlock's trail again. Felfang confirmed it when he threw his head back and howled. Like his master, Felfang never forgot the stench of the accursed Worgen.

The hunter knelt down and brushed a hand over the boy's opened eyes, closing them. The village had been part of the Frostwolf clan. Durotan would be demanding answers. Felfang paced around anxiously, his nose to the ground. Sairexanaris stood up again and went over to his companion. Felfang was his best friend; they had seen many things together, both good and bad.

"Let's go get her, boy," Sairexanaris said.

Felfang gave his master a quick look before taking off in the direction he had picked up the scent. Sairexanaris ran after him, his bow clenched tightly in his hand. Finally, all of his years of searching were coming to an end. The mongrel who murdered his family would finally face justice. Felfang led him through the grassy plains, stopping every now and then to find the scent before taking off again.

However, when they came to a large river, Felfang stopped and sniffed around, only going as far as the water's edge; where he sat down and whimpered, his ears drooping. Sairexanaris cursed under his breath, knowing that Felfang had lost the trail. They had been so close. Sairexanaris patted Felfang's head, rubbing behind the fel wolf's ears.

"Good boy, Felfang," he said. "You did good."

Felfang looked out across the water, a small whimper escaping him. Sairexanaris patted the fel wolf's head again.

"Let's head home," he said.

With Felfang by his side, Sairexanaris began the long trek back to Frostfire Ridge; feeling the sting of losing the trail. However, as he gathered his horse at the ravaged Frostwolf village, his determination burned ever stronger to track down and kill the Worgen who killed his family.

* * *

Reviews are welcome, flames are not


	2. Chapter 2

As predicted, as soon as Sairexanaris passed through the gates of his Garrison a few days later, Durotan was waiting for him; his face twisted into a mask of pure rage, and the hunter couldn't blame him. Sairexanaris dismounted and took a hold of the reigns, leading his horse back to the stables. Durotan walked beside him, remaining silent, but Sairexanaris knew the Frostwolf leader was anxious to ask about the attack on the village in Nagrand.

 _Maybe he's trying to calm down before he says anything,_ Sairexanaris thought as he walked into the stables.

He brought his horse into its stall and began removing the reigns and saddle. There were stable hands, but Sairexanaris preferred to take care of the horses himself. All the while, Durotan remained by the door; standing somber and silently fuming. Sairexanaris picked up a brush and began combing his horse's mane and coat.

"Was it Hellscream?" Durotan asked, his voice gruff.

Sairexanaris paused. "No," he replied, trying to hide his own anger.

"Then who would dare slaughter innocent men, women and children?" Durotan demanded, losing the fragile calm he had constructed.

The hunter debated whether to tell Durotan about the Worgan warlock; but that would be revealing too much of his past to someone he had a just recently met.

"It looked like an animal attack," Sairexanaris replied, half lying.

Durotan didn't look like he believed the answer, but he nodded nonetheless. "I'll send a team to retrieve the bodies. We'll give them a proper burial."

The Frostwolf leader turned and walked out of the stables. Sairexanaris sighed, knowing he should have told Durotan the truth; but the Worgen was his target, his prey. He wasn't going to let someone else take away his chance at vengeance.

Sairexanaris finished combing the horse and poured out some food and water in a trough. He walked out of the stall, closing the door behind him and locking it. Felfang waited patiently for his master at the stable doorway, his tail wagging back and forth as Sairexanaris approached. The hunter patted his fel wolf friend on the head, making his way out of the stables. Felfang padded along beside him.

Sairexanaris stopped briefly at the Garrison Command Board to see what news was coming in from across Draenor. Nothing he didn't already know hadn't come in, so Sairexanaris started for Town Hall. He walked over to the Command Table where Warmaster Zog was standing, studying a map of Draenor.

"Lots of attacks, Commander," Zog commented as the hunter walked up.

"And we're always one step behind," Sairexanaris growled under his breath, looking at the notes and reports scattered across the table. "The scouts haven't found who or what is responsible?"

Zog shook his head. "No, Commander," he replied. "They just find a lot of blood and death."

Sairexanaris ran a hand over his face. "Keep patrolling. That's all we can do," he said. "Hopefully we'll find the thing behind these attacks."

"Who shall I send?" Zog asked.

Sairexanaris thought for a moment. "Rala, Tormmok and Aeda," he finally answered.

Zog nodded. "I will inform them right away."

After forming a few more teams for scouting missions, Sairexanaris left Town Hall and walked out into the cold, crisp air of Frostwall. It was beginning to snow lightly. A cold chill shot down the hunter's spine as his glowing green eyes scanned the large fortress around him. People roamed around, all busy with their own tasks. Felfang sneezed as a snowflake tickled his nose. Sairexanaris looked down at his companion.

"How about a drink?" he asked.

As if to answer him, Felfang trotted off towards the tavern with his hunter right behind him.

* * *

Small gravel stones crunched underneath the Felsteed's hooves. A small caravan meandered through the forest of Gorgrond. Ahead of them, a young blood elf warlock led the group, keeping her eyes open for signs of threats. Her long red hair was tied up in a braid that fell over her right shoulder. Her robes rustled in the light breeze that swept through the trees. Beside her hovered a large Voidlord.

The trek back to Frostwall was a slow one, however it was necessary to preserve the quality of the supplies that the caravan was carrying. They couldn't afford to break anything; the Garrison depended on it. The warlock sighed quietly. She had thought that coming to Draenor would give her a chance at a new start; a life away from the disapproval of her family. However, it was a battle every day just to keep her sanity. She would have been better off staying in Ogrimmar and dealing with being shunned for being a warlock.

She hated the Iron Orcs; every last one of them. She had lost many good friends to the Iron Horde; people who didn't care what she was. Grommosh Hellscream needed to pay; they all did.

"Mistress Nyxidora," the Voidlord suddenly spoke.

"What is it, Yanix?" Nyxidora asked, turning to look at her minion.

"I sense something," Yanix replied.

Nyxidora held up her hand and the caravan stopped. Everyone fell silent, listening to the sounds of the forest. Birds chirped, bugs buzzed...and something was growling. It sounded like a wolf, but Nyxidora hadn't come across any wolves in Draenor other than the ones that hung around with the Frostwolf clan. The sun was beginning to sink behind the hills, casting the sky in varying shades of fiery orange, red and lavender.

The growling sound was drawing closer. Nyxidora motioned for the caravan to start moving again, telling the orcs to quicken the pace. She kept her eyes on the trees, looking for the snarling beast. She brought up the reigns of her Felsteed, bringing it to an abrupt halt. Up ahead hovered a Voidlord. It growled, which Yanix returned in a warning tone.

"Look at the cute little orcs," came an unfamiliar female voice.

Nyxidora shifted in the saddle as she turned around. A tall female Worgen warlock stood behind the caravan wagon. Nyxidora's heart began to hammer nervously against her ribs. She didn't think they had been near an Alliance camp. Yanix growled again in warning and Nyxidora knew that her Voidlord was about to charge.

"What do you want?" the blood elf warlock asked.

The Worgen's small ears twitched, listening to the forest sounds. "The one that got away," she replied cryptically.

Before Nyxidora knew what was happening, everything was suddenly engulfed in flames; the roar of Yanix the last thing she heard before she was overcome by the Worgen warlock.

* * *

Reviews are welcome, flames are not


	3. Chapter 3

_She stood before her father, head bowed and eyes locked on the floor. Her hands were clasped in front of her, a look of shame clearly evident on her face. Aexhal had his back to his daughter, staring out the large floor to ceiling window in the main area of the mansion. As always, Ogrimmar was bustling with activity. The paladin never spoke for several minutes. Nyxidora could feel her sibling's eyes burning into her back. Ravandraya were no doubt on the same side as their father. Silvarin, she knew, was on Nyxidora's side; but he wouldn't speak up against Aexhal._

 _It was a disgrace. A warlock being born into a family of warriors, paladins and rogues. A caster of the dark arts. Nyxidora remained frozen in her spot, fearful of what her father was going to say._

The howling wind forced the warlock awake. She had fallen asleep in the snow. Her body trembled from the cold and it took her a moment to remember where she was. Nyxidora looked around at the frozen tundra. Frostfire Ridge. Her journey of several days was almost coming to an end. She struggled to get to her feet. Her body ached, wounds throbbed; her tattered robes stuck to her body as seeping blood began to clot and freeze.

She had been the only survivor of the massacre. The Worgen had torn through the caravan like a tornado with claws and fangs. Yanix had gone down trying to take out the Worgen's Voidlord. They never stood a chance. However, the attack had Nyxidora confused. She thought that the Horde and Alliance were allies in the fight against the Iron Orcs. She had fought side by side with the Draenai to take back Shattrath City. She knew the two factions would always bear grudges against each other, but they had a common enemy now. Surely they could put their differences aside.

The cold burned her feet as Nyxidora stumbled through the snow. A blizzard was beginning to pick up. She didn't even have the strength to summon Yanix again for help. Her foot hit a patch of ice and she pitched forward. The world dissolved into a blanket of white.

 _"This is unforgiveable," Aexhal said. "Our family is one of the Light. And to have a dark caster..." He shook his head, his golden blonde hair swaying behind him._

 _"I cannot change who I am, Father," Nyxidora spoke softly. "I have tried to hide my true self from this family all my life. I knew it would bring dishonor to our proud name."_

 _"Well, you need not bear it any longer," Aexhal replied. "For we cannot have a dark caster within the walls of this house."_

 _"Father, you don't mean," Silvarin started, his voice fearful._

 _"Nyxidora will no longer be associated with this household," Aexhal said. He turned to face his youngest daughter. "I suggest you pack your things and leave immediately."_

 _With her eyes burning with tears, Nyxidora nodded in understanding and quickly left the room; never making eye contact with her brother and sister on her way out. When her few necessary belongings were packed, Nyxidora went down to the stables to collect her Felsteed. She never looked back as she rode away from her old home. She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Then, she remembered seeing a notice on the Warchief's Command Board. Thrall needed people to help him storm the Dark Portal and keep the Iron Orcs from passing through into Azeroth._

 _She would seek Thrall out. Anything was better than roaming Ogrimmar aimlessly. Nyxidora steered her horse towards the elevator._

 _Draenor awaited._

* * *

A lone green eye glowed through the stark white of the blizzard. Sairexanaris sat huddled underneath a thick cloak on a rock outcropping near The Cracking Plains. He scanned the landscape, ever vigilant. He clenched his bow in his hand, holding it close to his chest. The bow had been constructed by Karadash, the troll who had raised him after his family had been killed. The troll hunter had found Sairexanaris on the edge of Ghostlands, just barely clinging to life. He had taken the boy back to Shen'jin Village and, with the help of his young daughter, Sarn, nursed Sairexanaris back to health.

Seeing that the boy needed a father figure, and being good friends with Sairexanaris' father, Karadash had taken him in and had raised him like his own son; teaching him the ways of the hunter. Sairexanaris and Sarn grew to be the closest of friends and became deadly hunters under Karadash's tutelage. However, the thirst for vengeance grew ever stronger for the young blood elf; and at the age of twenty-four, Sairexanaris set off on his own with only Felfang as company to hunt down the Worgen who took his family from him.

Sairexanaris was brought back to reality when he heard Felfang bark. The hunter jumped down from his perch and ran over to where the fel wolf was racing back and forth. Sairexanaris arrived to find his wolf friend nudging the arm of a young blood elf girl, no older than himself. She was lying half buried in the snow and the hunter wondered if she was even still alive. He knelt down and placed his fingers against her neck; his heart jumped when he found a pulse. It was slow and weak, but it was a pulse, nonetheless.

Sairexanaris took off his cloak and picked the girl up, wrapping the cloak around her cold body. He whistled loudly and it was echoed by a horse's whinny. His horse galloped up and slid to a stop in front of him. Sairexanaris picked the girl up in his arms bridle style and climbed into the saddle, placing her in front of him; her head resting on his chest. He took the reigns and steered the horse back towards the Garrison, kicking it in the flanks. The horse took off and Felfang was right behind it.

Frostwall was fast approaching. Sairexanaris kicked the horse to run faster. The girl let out a strained moan. He looked down at her pale face, which was now twisted into a mask of pain.

"Miss? Can you hear me?" Sairexanaris asked. "What happened?"

"W-Worgen," was all the girl whispered before losing consciousness again.

Sairexanaris felt his heart plummet into his stomach like a rock. He slammed his heels into the horse's flanks and it picked up the pace. They shot through the Garrison gates like a bat out of hell.

"Call Yazzoo!" Sairexanaris yelled.

* * *

The barracks was empty save for the hunter and a young girl that occupied the bed closest to the hearth. Yazzoo, the shadow priest, walked over to the bed with his brother, Zorrion, a warlock, and friend, Traylon, an arcane mage coming in behind him. Yazzoo's head and face were covered in a hood that was engulfed in flames, his face hidden behind a skull mask; yet the flames never hurt him. Zorrion's blonde hair was half pulled up into a ponytail that sat near the top of his head with the rest of it cascading over his shoulders. Traylon's black hair was done in the same manner. Zorrion wore warlock robes fashioned for excursions in the wilds of Draenor. Traylon wore black velvet robes while Yazzoo wore red robes to match his hood.

They found Sairexanaris sitting on a chair near the one occupied bed. His hair, which he usually wore in the same style as Zorrion and Traylon, was now fully down and fell over his back and shoulders. He looked up when he heard footsteps.

"Yaz," the hunter breathed in relief.

"I came as soon as I got your message," Yazzoo said, walking up to the bed.

Sairexanaris got to his feet. "You've got to heal her," he said, pointing to the unconscious girl.

Yazzoo looked from his cousin to the girl. "Sai, you know I don't heal, anymore," he pointed out.

"You've got to heal her," Sairexanaris repeated, more urgently.

"Sai, I'm a shadow priest," Yazzoo reminded him, firmly. "I don't heal."

"Why the urgency?" Traylon asked, walking over to the bed. "What's so important about this girl?"

"Besides the obvious fact that she's a girl?" Zorrion asked.

Yazzoo and Traylon looked at him. Zorrion simply smiled. Sairexanaris' expression, however, remained desperate.

"She knows where the warlock is," he said quietly.

Zorrion's smile dropped and all three turned to face the hunter. Swallowing nervously, Yazzoo walked over to the bed and took the seat Sairexanaris was previously occupying. He pulled back the sheets and assessed the girl's wounds.

"Multiple lacerations, no doubt claw marks. One broken ankle, the other sprained. Broken ribs, fractured arm. Early onset of hypothermia." The shadow priest sighed and shook his head in disbelief. "This girl shouldn't even be alive," he said.

"Can you heal her?" Sairexanaris asked.

Yazzoo covered the girl up again and held out his hands. "I'll try my hardest," he replied. "But, it's been a long time since I've healed anyone. Though, this depends greatly on her will to live as much as it does on the healing spell." He looked up at the hunter. "You might want to make yourself busy. This is going to take some time."


	4. Chapter 4

Yazzoo opened his eyes to look at the young girl's face. Hours had passed since he had started healing her and there was still no sign of her regaining consciousness. He sighed, worried that his efforts were in vain. He feared to tell Sairexanaris that he had been too late in getting to her. Yazzoo shook his head, banishing the thought. He had seen too much death, lost too much. Two loves, taken by the Alliance. An aunt and uncle and two cousins, gone. He couldn't save them, and the anger of that knowledge had ignited something dark within him; turning Yazzoo from the light and to the shadow.

He had donned the hood of flames as penance for his sins. Though Zorrion, Sairexanaris and Traylon had told him countless times that he had done nothing wrong, Yazzoo still believed that he had sinned for not being able to save his loved ones. Maybe he could change that by saving this girl's life. He owed it to Sairexanaris.

Yazzoo shifted in his seat and closed his eyes again, concentrating on the healing spell. There was still so much damage left to repair. If the Worgen she spoke of before she lost consciousness was the same one Sairexanaris was hunting, her knowledge was invaluable.

Yazzoo was brought out of his thoughts when he heard a soft moan. He opened his eyes and looked at the girl's face. It was slightly twisted in pain. Yazzoo breathed in relief. She was finally coming around. The more he healed, the more animated the girl became. Finally, the last of the wounds were healed and the girl was beginning to wake up. Yazzoo stood up and bent over her.

"Miss? Can you hear me?" he asked.

The girl's eyes flickered open. However, upon seeing a flaming, hooded skull for a face, her eyes grew wide with fear and she let out a scream. Yazzoo grunted and fell back as she delivered a hard blow to his face. He clutched his now bleeding nose as he pulled back the hood, revealing his true features. The girl was taken aback, gasping a little.

"By the light," she whispered. "You're a blood elf."

Yazzoo groaned. "More like a bloodied elf," he said.

He moved away from the bed and headed for the door. At the same time, Sairexanaris was just entering the barracks. He frowned when he saw Yazzoo's bloody face.

"What happened to you?" the hunter asked.

Yazzoo pointed over his shoulder. "She's awake," he said. "She's all yours."

He moved past his cousin, casting a healing spell over himself. Sairexanaris looked over to see the girl begin to sit up in bed. He made his way over to the bed. The girl looked up at him with fearful eyes.

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"Frostwall," Sairexanaris replied. "You're in my Garrison."

"How did I get here?" the girl wanted to know.

Sairexanaris sat down in the chair beside the bed. "I found you out on The Cracking Plains," he explained. "I brought you here. Yazzoo healed you."

The girl pointed towards the door. "The guy I just punched?" she asked.

Sairexanaris nodded. "Yeah," he replied, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips.

The girl looked down at her hands. "I have to give him my thanks and my apologizes," she said, embarrassed.

"I don't blame you. If I woke up to see a flaming skull looking down at me, I'd hit it, too," the hunter said.

The girl glanced up at him. "Thank you for saving me," she told him.

"If you don't mind my asking," Sairexanaris said. "Where were you coming from?"

The girl thought for a moment before answering. "Gorgrond." She looked down at her tattered robes. "How am I still alive?" she asked quietly, more to herself than to Sairexanaris.

"What happened?" Sairexanaris asked gently.

"I was leading a caravan back to my Garrison. We were passing through Gorgrond, through the forest." The girl's eyes became haunted. "We were ambushed...by a Worgen." She shivered. "She had more than just magic on her side. She also had fangs and claws to work with."

"This Worgen, what was she? A shadow priest?" Sairexanaris asked.

The girl shook her head.

"A mage?" the hunter guessed.

Again, the girl shook her head. "A warlock," she replied, voice shaking. "We never stood a chance. I asked her what she wanted, and all she said was, 'The one who got away'."

A chill shot down Sairexanaris' spine. _Who's hunting whom?_ he asked himself.

"I don't know why she left me alive," the girl spoke, breaking the hunter out of his thoughts.

"Miss," Sairexanaris began.

"Nyxidora," the girl said. "My name is Nyxidora."

"Sairexanaris. Nyxidora, did she say anything else?" the hunter asked.

Nyxidora shook her head. "No. That's all she said before she attacked."

Before Sairexanaris could say anything else, the door of the barracks opened and Zorrion, Traylon and Yazzoo walked in. Yazzoo was once again wearing his flaming hood. Zorrion's face brightened into a wide smile when he saw Nyxidora sitting up in bed.

"You're awake!" he cheered happily, hurrying over to the bed. "Yazzy's still got the touch."

"Zor, I've told you many times to stop calling me that," Yazzoo said.

"But, it's such a cute name," Zorrion told him.

Nyxidora's face turned a light shade of red when she saw Yazzoo. "Um...Commander Yazzoo?"

The shadow priest looked at her. "Yes?" he asked.

"Thank you...for saving my life," Nyxidora said. "And...um...sorry about punching you earlier."

Zorrion chuckled. "You've got a nasty right hook. My name's Zorrion, by the way. Yazzy's my brother. And the brooding one is Traylon."

"I don't brood," Traylon argued.

"Then why are you always so serious?" Zorrion asked, turning to face the mage.

Traylon crossed his arms. "Why aren't you more serious?" he asked. "Honestly, Zorrion. You're the guild master."

Zorrion waved his hand dismissively. "You can't take things too seriously, Tray. That's why I started Velvet Nightmare."

"Here we go again," Sairexanaris muttered under his breath.

"And while you two are discussing that, I'm going to ask our guest what her name is," Yazzoo cut in.

Nyxidora's blush deepened. "I'm Nyxidora," she said. "I'm sorry if I caused you all any trouble."

Zorrion looked at her, eyes wide with surprise. "Trouble? You're no trouble. We were happy to help."

"Who's 'we'? Yazzoo did all the work," Traylon said.

"We were emotional support," Zorrion replied, without missing a beat.

Sairexanaris put a hand over his eyes as Yazzoo shook his head. Traylon gave Zorrion an unimpressed look, which Zorrion returned with a grin. Nyxidora chuckled softly. The memories of the attack began to fade as she enjoyed the company of her own people. She hoped that she would never have to face off against the Worgen again. But, if her path ever crossed with the warlock again, Nyxidora hoped that she wouldn't be facing her alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Nyxidora sat by the hearth in the barracks; the flames casting her white robes in a hue of fiery reds and oranges. She held her travelling robes in her left hand and a sewing needle in the other. She sat quietly in the chair, listening to the sounds of the crackling fire. She was alone in the barracks, for which she was grateful. The last few days she had been overwhelmed by people wanting to meet her; the girl Commander Sairexanaris had pulled from the snow. However, since learning about how she had sustained such serious injuries, the hunter had grown distant. Though, Nyxidora knew nothing about him, she couldn't help but feel she had let him down when she told him everything she knew about the warlock that had attacked her in Gorgrond.

Nyxidora jumped and winced slightly as the needle pinched her finger. She brought her bleeding finger to her lips, sucking away the blood. Her eyes fell on a small med kit beside one of the other beds. She stood up, placed her robes and needle on the chair and went over to the kit. Opening it, she found several bandages. Nyxidora took out a small silk bandage and wrapped it around her finger, tying it off. As she looked down at the piece of cloth, her mind drifted back to her life in Ogrimmar; growing up in a household of brave warriors and paladins and one lone rogue. Then again, Silvarin had always been a bit of a rogue; in more ways than one.

She smiled as she remembered her eldest brother showing off his new daggers, saying that rogues had more fun and that he wasn't going to let himself get tied down by family tradition. Silvarin had been more than just a brother; he was her best friend. He had stuck by her when he discovered her secret; having walked in on her one day after she had just learned how to summon a Voidlord. She thought he was going to rat her out to their father. Instead, he had been extremely curious; albeit a bit cautious, for they both knew what would happen should the rest of the family find out.

Nyxidora felt a twinge of sadness for not being able to say good-bye to her brother properly before she was cast out. Although, her father didn't give her much time for anything. Sighing, Nyxidora went back to her chair, picked up the needle and robes and sat back down; going back to her sewing. She couldn't help but wonder if the blood elves that helped her would be of the same mindset as her family if they found out she was a warlock.

"Are you going to keep hiding in here?" came a sudden voice.

Nyxidora jumped, almost poking herself with the needle again. She turned around to see Yazzoo standing in the doorway. Her heart still hammered against her ribs every time she saw that flaming, hooded skull mask. He must have had his reasons for wearing the mask of death.

"You know, there's something beyond the doors called the outside," the shadow priest continued, walking further into the barracks. "You should try it. Fresh air. Cold, crisp wind. And, did I mention that there's sunlight?"

"Hello to you, too, Commander Yazzoo," Nyxidora said, trying to get her heart out of her throat.

"Still working on your robes, I see," Yazzoo commented. "It's been five days. Surely a talented tailor like yourself would have had them completed by now. Unless..."

Nyxidora felt heat rise up her neck and into her cheeks.

"Who are you hiding from?" Yazzoo asked, his voice soft.

Nyxidora looked away, turning in the chair so her back was to Yazzoo. The shadow priest walked around to the other side of the chair and looked down at her. He was surprised to see tears silently streaming down Nyxidora's cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Yazzoo asked, suddenly worried.

Nyxidora quickly wiped the tears away before going back to her sewing. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"When someone starts crying it usually means they're _not_ fine," Yazzoo told her. "You can talk to me. You can trust me."

Nyxidora paused in her sewing. "I haven't been able to trust anyone for a long time," she said, her voice quiet.

Yazzoo knelt down so he could see Nyxidora's face. "Are you hiding from us?" he asked.

Nyxidora glanced up at him before looking away again. "You wouldn't trust me if you knew what I was."

Yazzoo frowned in confusion. "And what are you?" he wanted to know.

Nyxidora swallowed nervously, seeming to shrink into herself. "I'm a warlock."

"So?" Yazzoo asked, even more confused. "Why would I not trust you? There are lots of warlocks. Zorrion's a warlock."

Nyxidora looked up again. "He is?"

Yazzoo nodded. "And a damn good one, too."

"But, it's dark magic," Nyxidora pointed out.

"The same can be said about shadow priests," Yazzoo added. "And I'm a shadow priest."

Now it was Nyxidora's turn to be confused. "But, you healed me. Shadow priests don't heal," she said.

"That's a long story," Yazzoo replied. "I used to heal, but not anymore. Also, you might want to know that Traylon's an arcane mage. We're three dark casters, so why would we treat you with distain?"

Nyxidora gazed down at her robes. "You can't trust people. I haven't been able to trust anyone since I was cast out of my own home," she replied quietly.

"Why?" Yazzoo asked. "Because you were a warlock?"

Nyxidora nodded. "My family is one of the Light. My father is a paladin, my sister a warrior. My brother is a rogue, but he's a good rogue. I was told my mother was a monk." Her eyes grew sad. "I never knew my mother. She died giving birth to me. My father always blamed me for her death...and he had every right to."

"I don't believe that," Yazzoo declared. "Take no offense, but your family sounds stuffed up and full of themselves. Just because you're a warlock doesn't make you an evil person."

"How do you know? You've known me for all of five days," Nyxidora pointed out.

"If you meant us any harm you would have done something by now," Yazzoo said.

"You trust too easily," Nyxidora commented.

"I've been told that," Yazzoo replied.

Nyxidora turned her robes over in her hands. "You must get very close with people."

Yazzoo shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Not anymore, I'm afraid."

There was a story behind his tone, but Nyxidora didn't pry. Yazzoo reached up and took the robes and needle from her, lying them on the bed. He then took her hands and, as he got to his feet, pulled Nyxidora up with him.

"You need some fresh air. A walk around the Garrison will do you some good."

Yazzoo grabbed Nyxidora's cloak and handed it to her. Knowing that arguing was useless, Nyxidora took the cloak and pulled it on. The warlock and shadow priest made their way outside.

"She lives!" came an excited cry.

Nyxidora looked around to see Zorrion hurrying over to the barracks. Traylon was trailing behind him. Nyxidora couldn't help but see why Zorrion had called Traylon the brooding one. He always seemed to be annoyed about something; at least whenever she had seen him. Zorrion ran up and threw his arms around Nyxidora, pulling her into a tight bear hug.

"I was beginning to think we had done something to make you mad," Zorrion said as he pulled away. "But, I'm glad to see that Yazzy talked you into joining us."

Nyxidora almost missed the annoyed, sharp intake of breath from Yazzoo at the nickname; but he never said anything. She was starting to learn that there were some things that were pointless to correct Zorrion on. Nyxidora looked around the large Garrison. Hers was nothing compared to the size of this stronghold.

"Is it okay if I take a look around?" she asked.

"Go right ahead. I'm sure Sai wouldn't mind," Zorrion answered.

Nyxidora smiled lightly and walked off. When she was out of earshot, Yazzoo decided to speak.

"I'm worried about her," he said.

Zorrion and Traylon looked at him. "Why do you say that?" the arcane mage asked.

"Her wounds have healed, yet she's still not back to her full health. It's like something is keeping her from healing completely," Yazzoo explained.

"Can that happen?" Zorrion questioned.

Yazzoo shrugged. "It seems to be the case," he replied.

"So, what do you suggest?" Traylon asked.

"Well, I've talked to Sai about it and he said she can stay here as long as she likes," Yazzoo answered. "But, I know for a fact that she's going to want to get back to her own Garrison. However, I'm afraid that with her depleted strength she might not last long if she continues her exploration of Draenor. She's going to need help."

"What's the plan?" Zorrion wanted to know.

Yazzoo took a deep breath before speaking again. "Why not invite her into Velvet Nightmare?" he suggested.

Traylon gave the shadow priest a surprised look while Zorrion looked like he was about ready to burst with excitement at the thought of having a new guild member.

"Of course, I wouldn't do anything without your permission, Zor," Yazzoo said. "Since you are the guild master I thought-"

"Yes!" Zorrion all but shouted. "But, I have to ask. Besides her needing protection in the wilds of Draenor; why invite someone you just met?" He gave his brother a sly grin. "Does Yazzy have a crush?"

Yazzoo gave his brother a dark look. "You know my standing on relationships, Zorrion," he said, his voice low and threatening.

"I know. I know. You think you're bad luck," Zorrion stated, holding up his hands. "But, seriously, Yaz. You can't spend the rest of your life sad and alone. You're bound to develop feelings towards someone at some point."

"He has his reasons, Zorrion," Traylon spoke up. "We all bear scars. Some too deep to heal."

"No one deserves to spend their lives alone," Zorrion commented.

"It's better for everyone if I do," Yazzoo told him.

The shadow priest walked away, ending the discussion. He headed towards the tavern. He had expected Zorrion to question his motives. But, still, after speaking with his brother, Yazzoo found he was in desperate need of a stiff drink.


End file.
